Improving Man
by katfairy
Summary: Be wary of wousing a witch's wath- er, rousing a ritch's rath- oh, slaggit, be careful of making a magician angry! Especially if they have strange ideas about what Real Witches are like...
1. Default Chapter

Just a note before I start- most of my original characters are based upon people I've met; generally they are amalgams of various individuals. The characters in this story are no different.

And yes, that statement is meant to be alarming. It means that there really are people like that out there...

The appearance of this story doesn't mean I've given up on the others. This is just one of the plotbunnies I mentioned in the author's note for chapter 24 of Beyond Knightfall; it spawned from something I've got planned for the fourth story set in the Sisterhood-verse. It was originally supposed to be sent to a Halloween short story contest, but when that didn't happen (long, irrelevant, and annoying story), I expanded it a bit. It won't be anywhere near as long as Beyond Knightfall; I don't intend for this to run more than four chapters.

Credit where credit is due- I didn't invent anyone you recognise. The system of magic used is cobbled together from various sources, with one or two of my own ideas thrown in for good measure. Diane Duane created the rules and languages for a few of the groups Terry encounters, although this isn't really a crossover. "The horde", with one exception, is all mine.

Points to anyone who gets the reference in the title; if nobody does, I'll explain at the end of the story.

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It was a dark and stormy night. As usual. There were times when Bruce Wayne honestly wondered if Gotham had any other kind. When he could be bothered to put much thought into it he knew that Gotham's weather was merely a result of prevailing winds tending to funnel all local weather systems directly over the city, but the fact of the matter was that whatever the cause, Gotham still had the worst weather of any city on the East Coast.

_And if I'm wasting time puzzling this out again, I must be very bored,_ Bruce told himself. Checking his watch for the 6th time that evening, he started to feel the first pangs of worry. When Terry was going to be later than usual, he called. Granted, the boy was only half an hour late at this point- not even close to a record for someone who couldn't walk across a street without finding trouble- but it was exactly that record that had Bruce considering calling him.

He was just starting to reach for the phone when the doorbell rang. Bruce frowned, trying to think who would bother ringing the bell. Or, for that matter, could evade the gate and all of the other security measures and would bother ringing the bell.

The bell rang again, prompting him to put off speculation on the identity of his visitor and take a more practical approach to the mystery; namely, answering the blasted door.

The bell rang twice more as he made his way down the hall. Whoever was at the door wasn't leaning on the bell, but seemed to think that a short burst at intervals of thirty seconds was equally effective. Bruce was already formulating plans to dissuade them from continuing the habit, starting with opening the door wearing the look Terry called (but didn't know Bruce had heard him say so) the Dark Knight Death Glare.

The glare dropped from his face as he saw the bell-ringer. In fact, if he hadn't witnessed it with his own eyes, he'd have looked around for the prankster (not joker, never joker) who had really been doing the ringing. But no- he had opened the door just in time to see the cat jump up and hit the doorbell with its paw. The cat then proceeded to take advantage of Bruce's surprise and dart inside the house.

"Hey!" He turned and made a grab for the beast, but it nimbly avoided him and headed straight for the library. Ace growled, rushing at it, but suddenly stopped, sniffed, and looked as bewildered as a dog could look. The cat in turn sat and smirked up at the huge dog with the smug amusement that only a cat could display.

Bruce took the opportunity to study his latest opponent: the cat had appeared at first to be all black but in the stronger light of the hall Bruce could see that it had a gray throat, chest, and stomach as well as tufts of lighter grey behind its ears; its fur was long, making it look bigger than Bruce suspected it was; it had the almost-gangly look that suggested it wasn't quite full-grown yet; its eyes were pale, but he didn't get a long enough look at them to be sure of the exact color. All in all, it was a very handsome animal. But it wasn't staying.

"All right, you're gorgeous. Now get out," he growled, knowing it wouldn't do any good but trying anyway for form's sake. The cat's response was predictable- it ignored him. He shut the door, wondering how he was going to get the beast out before Terry got there. After all, if the boy saw him being confounded by a _cat_... it didn't bear thinking about.

Ace started sniffing the cat again; it put up with that for a few seconds, but when Ace reached the more personal areas, the cat whirled and smacked his nose. The dog yelped, backing off. Bruce restrained a heartfelt groan as the cat stalked into the library with a preremptory yowl. He knew he had no choice but to follow.

"You are _not_ staying. Let's get that strai-" he broke off as he saw what the cat was up to now. It was sitting, staring up at the clock impatiently. The moment Bruce came into the room, it reared up and pawed the case. When Bruce didn't move, the cat shot him a glare, yowled again, and rapped the case sharply. When Bruce still didn't move, it walked back to him, got behind his ankles, and shoved with its head.

"I'm going to regret this. This has to be one of Selina's bright ideas. I'm very much going to regret this," he muttered as he opened the entrance to the Batcave. With an exasperated meow, the cat disappeared down the stairs, leaving Bruce to follow, wondering exactly when he'd lost control.

_The minute you opened the door, you old fool. You've never been _in_ control when a cat's been involved._

He reached the cave to find that the cat had turned on the computer. Somehow, that failed to surprise him. What did surprise him was the message on the screen.

**Sorry I'm late. I ran into a bit of trouble.**

Bruce looked at the cat again. It was sitting upright on the side of the console, its tail-tip twitching. The brighter light had caused the cat's pupils to contract and now Bruce could see that its eyes were an incongruous crystal blue. Bruce looked back at the words on the screen, then at the cat again. He sat down quickly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"McGinnis, how the _hell_ did you manage this one?"

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Despite knowing that Bruce had a point, Terry couldn't help feeling a little indignant that the Old Man immediately assumed that he'd somehow caused this himself. After all, he _could_ have been an innocent bystander...

_Except for the part where I wasn't. But this really wasn't my fault! All I did was slip on some wet leaves! It is _not_ my fault that I fell into that psycho, no matter what she says. I _tried_ to apologise, but _nooooo....

**I guess I was wrong about magic. Not believing in it.**

"You think?"

Terry glared at his mentor, who was trying not to smirk. He was just glad that it would never cross Bruce's mind to make any of the crude jokes that had popped into his own mind as he'd made his way to Wayne Manor. Not that Terry would have made them himself, but he'd still thought of them. It was bad enough that Bruce would find subtle ways to rag on him for weeks, if not months because of this; he didn't need the obvious jokes too. Which reminded him...

**Do you think maybe we could NOT tell Drake about this?**

Bruce chuckled.

"We'll see." Suddenly, he sobered. "The question is, what do we tell your mother if we can't get this fixed quickly?"

Terry could feel his tail bristling; it was decidedly wierd.

**Which of us would she kill first? And watch the f-word, will you?**

"Sorry. But she has no reason to be angry with me- I had nothing to do with it."

**Ever hear of killing the messenger?**

"Good point. Still, we don't need to worry about that yet. What we need to first is determine the limits of the- no, what we need to do first is figure out why. Care to enlighten me?"

_Not really._

**Apparently slipping on wet leaves and landing on the woman walking by is part of an Evil Patriarchal Plot To Dominate Helpless Women. Who kne**

_MINE!!!_

The next thing Terry knew, he was being hoisted by a strong hand while a bat scrabbled at Bruce's feet. Part of his mind raged that his prey was getting away, but the majority was chilled by the realisation of how easily he had succumbed to his new body's instincts. From the look on Bruce's face, the Old Man was worried too.

"Well, I guess I don't need to ask if you've gained any other feline attributes. I think it would be best if we continued this upstairs. Fewer... distractions."

Watching the bat scutter away, Terry nodded. Typing on the upstairs computer would be more difficult, but it would be safer.

_God, if I'd eaten that- ew. This is suddenly a lot less fun. -Oh, crap. Am I going to start grooming? That's somewhere I really don't wanna go... And what if it gets worse? Will I still be me in here, or will I become a cat all the way? And if I do, what happens if I get turned back? Will I- oh, god, I can't do this! Not again!_

"Shhh, Terry, it's all right. If this is a spell, then there must be a counter-spell. It's just a matter of finding it. And we will find it. I'll call Jason Blood as soon as you've settled down."

A spark of amusement relit, helping Terry to relax; he wasn't the only one reverting to instinct. Bruce had nestled Terry against one shoulder and was stroking his back as the Old Man carried him upstairs, just as he would a normal cat.

_Hmmm- I wonder if I can hold out until I run into Dana; she's a sucker for fuzzy animals. Or maybe Max- no. Bad thought. Max is a friend. Even if she does have a balcony you could do Shakespeare from. And I didn't just think that either. Terry's Law Number Three- Thou shalt not speculate about your best friend's rack. Ever._

_Bet it would be nice and comfortable, though... I am such a twip. Or possibly a teenage boy. Cat. Whatever._

"McGinnis, you're purring."

_Yeah, well, you're scratching me behind the ears- oh. I didn't mean you should stop! Slaggit, that crazy witch didn't give me ear mites, did she? Come on, Old Man, start scratching again, it itches! Yeah, that's better. Ow! What bit- oh. Oh, no. Oh, _slaggit._ That miserable, rotten, slithy, fluff-brained, skitter-witted, paranoid-delusional, spuck-eyed, sheep-shagging, goat-nuzzling, llama-groping troutmonkey! **SHE GAVE ME FLEAS!!!!!**_

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"Bruce, what happened?"

"Ever given a cat a flea bath?"

"Uh, no."

"Don't."

Bruce knew he had only himself to blame. After all, he knew there were going to be incidents where Terry's feline instincts would become too strong for him to fight. And he knew that cats and water were never a good combination. And he certainly knew that Terry was a very effective fighter with an impressive array of dirty tricks. What he had failed to take into account was that in Terry's new form, five of his six ends were very pointy.

_But at least I finished giving him his bath. Not that he's going to forgive me for that any time soon. _

As he led Jason Blood into the study, they could both hear Terry's rather vocal displeasure. On catching sight of them, the cat struggled to get out of the towel he was swaddled in, his volume increasing exponentially.

"MCGINNIS!"

Terry froze, then yowled softly one last time. Bruce glanced over at Jason, who was grinning openly.

"Did you understand that?"

"I'm not translating."

"Probably best for all concerned. McGinnis, I'm going to finish towelling you off. Think you can keep those claws sheathed this time?"

His look answered for him, but Bruce grabbed the towel anyway. Seconds later, a bedraggled and highly irate Terry emerged, hissing and spitting but not, thankfully, clawing. Jason was grinning even wider.

"Can you even do that with a spring-loaded tea strainer?"

"Don't translate, Jason. Just... don't." He knew how creative Terry could get when angry; add embarrassed to that and he suspected that even at his age he'd be getting more of an education than he wanted.

"You sure? The kid's got a way with words. Must be the Irish in him; they always were the best when it came to creative cursing."

"Don't encourage him either. I want you to examine him while I get this mess cleaned up. If you have any ideas at all on how to change him back, I want to hear them immediately. Terry, this is Jason Blood. You can trust him."

Blood raised an eyebrow at him, but made no comment. As Bruce left he could hear his old friend talking to Terry quietly, asking questions and apparently understanding the answers. He wondered about that; he wouldn't put it past Blood to be faking it just to get a rise out of him.

He took his time getting back, knowing that Jason would need to examine Terry thoroughly and that everyone would be happier if that was done in as much privacy as possible. Aside from the brief moment of panic in the cave, Terry had been handling things well but it was still an embarrassing situation. No sense in making the boy even more uncomfortable than necessary.

When he did return, both Jason and Terry looked a bit more relaxed, although not exactly welling over with enthusiasm. Bruce hadn't expected them to be, of course; with magic, it was never that easy. In fact, he had found that generally the most exasperating answer- not the most difficult; just the most annoying and the most likely to cause extreme personal embarrassment- was the correct one.

"Start with the bad news," he growled. Then at Terry's look, "There's always bad news."

"Bad news- I can't do anything to help. Not directly, anyway. I can point you toward people who can, but this just isn't my kind of magic. But there is some good news, at least: while Terry is going to need to watch out for his cat instincts taking over at odd moments, it's not going to get any worse. He isn't going to lose himself- well, not for more than a few seconds at a time, anyway. And I may know who cast this spell, which makes things easier. I need to confirm it with Rose, though, because I've never actually met the woman in question so I can't be sure if this really is her signature. It does seem her style- yammering on about Evil Patriarchal Plots at a moment's notice; assuming that anything happening in her vicinity is aimed at her? Sounds like Rayvyn."

"Raven?"

Jason grinned, shook his head, and spelled it out.

"Rayvyn Evenstar, and no, that is _not_ the name she was born with. But you see, to be a True Witch one must cast aside all trappings of mundanity and let one's Inner Essence be reflected in every aspect of one's life."

"...She dresses all in white, doesn't she?"

"However did you guess? If you've got half an hour or so, ask Rose about her. She and Rayvyn remind me a bit of you and Harvey Bullock, the way they're always at each other's throats. You'll see what I mean..."

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_Well, Bruce may not see a resemblance, but I do._

Rose Uusitalo looked nothing like Bruce, being only slightly above average height, decidedly curvy, and looking much younger than she really was. This had nothing to do with magic; she was just one of those people who always looked young. She also had long ash-blonde hair confined in a thick braid hanging over one shoulder and falling to her waist, a pleasant if unremarkable face, and a soft soprano voice. She dressed sensibly and casually, wearing jeans, sneakers, and a deep green sweater. The resemblance was only noticable after a few minutes in her company; she had the same impatience with idiots, the same ruthless efficiency when working, and the same confidence in the essential rightness of what she did. Even her eyes were the same, clear and piercing and a shade that hovered so precisely between blue and grey that it was impossible to decide which they were.

_Of course, I don't think Bruce has ever greeted someone at the door by saying "Hello, gorgeous" and trying to swallow his tonsils. And if he has, I don't want to know about it. And I really don't think I'll ever catch Bruce cracking jokes like that- I'm thinking it's a good thing cats don't blush._

Rose absently scratched Terry behind the ears as she put the phone down; Terry purred smugly, having decided that there were certain unexpected benefits to his condition.

"Well, the horde should be here pretty soon," Rose said. "You were right to bring him- this is definitely that damnfool Whoopie Witch's doing. I just hope we can undo it."

"What's the problem?" Bruce seemed to have been expecting this.

"The smeghead's been locking her spells lately to make it harder for me to fix her screwups- oh, sorry, I'm sure I meant, to undo all her good work. I haven't quite figured out how she's been doing it, and it's not like I can rely on common sense to help me."

"True," Jason grinned. "Have you tried things that only a complete and utter moron would have done?"

"No, I started with the stuff even the idiots wouldn't touch. I think I might be onto something already, but I'm not quite there yet. I'm telling you, Jason, if we don't find some way of dealing with her she's going to end up calling up something she can't contain and lay waste to half the city before we can unlock her thrice-buggered wards!"

"She already has."

"**WHAT!?!?!"**

Terry winced and even Bruce looked a little startled; they would never have guessed she could get that loud- or that shrill. Jason just laughed.

"Maybe I should do the introductions again- Rose, this is Bruce Wayne. The cat you're presently cuddling used to be his protege, Terry McGinnis."

Rose's eyes widened and she started to laugh.

_"Something she can't contain and will lay waste to half the city"- yeah, that sounds like a good description of the Old Man's temper. But why do I think there's something here that I've missed?_

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"The horde" was only lacking one person, according to Rose, and Terry was too obviously playing to the crowd. Bruce glared over to where the boy was being held, cooed over, and scratched behind the ears by a small group of young women. The older members of the coven were trying to hide their amusement, as was Jason.

"How old did you say Terry was?"

"Eighteen- almost nineteen."

Jason chuckled, watching as Terry was picked up and cuddled against the rather impressive chest of one of the girls. Another was scratching him under the chin. Smug didn't begin to describe his expression.

"That sounds about right. Cut him some slack, Bruce- or are you honestly trying to tell me that you wouldn't have done the same thing when you were that young? Oh, right, sorry- forgot who I was talking to."

Bruce's glare shifted to his old friend, who ignored it. He was about to say something when noise from the front room heralded the arrival of the last person invited. They turned to see who it was.

_Good god._

It was impossible.

_This is not happening._

It was coincidence brought to levels that surpassed absurdity.

_I'm a dead man._

It was Mary McGinnis.

"Mr. Wayne? What are you doing here?"

_Panicking._

"Jason brought me," he said, ignoring the incredulous glare he could almost feel directed at him. "Someone brought me a problem I thought he could help with, and he referred us to Ms. Uusitalo. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I've been a member of the group for years. I don't have much in the way of power, not like Rose or Jason, but it's not really about power, is it? I mean, Rayvyn has power, but that's the only reason she ever gets results. Whoopie Witch," she snorted.

"What exactly does that mean? I've been hearing the phrase almost every time the woman's name comes up." It wasn't the best delaying tactic he'd ever come up with, but it would have to do.

"Well..." Mary thought for a few seconds. "It basically means she's the kind of person who would change her name from Laurie Davis to Rayvyn Evenstar because it sounds more like a Real Witch. The kind of person who actually dresses in white samite because that's what Real Witches wear. The kind of person who spends so much time dictating what Real Witches are that she never pays attention to how real witches do things. The kind of person who spells 'magic' with a k."

"A poser."

"And a dangerous one. Like, for example... most spells are pretty basic. If it calls for basil, it doesn't matter if you use sweet basil, cinnamon basil, or any other sort of basil unless the spell specifically calls for it. It's not a substitution, it's just a variation on a theme. Rayvyn, though- if something called for meat, she'd use seitan or tofu because Real Witches never exploit animals for their flesh."

Bruce was stunned. Up until then he really had thought that it was just a personality conflict, but if Mary was right, this Rayvyn was very dangerous indeed. This was a much more serious problem than Terry's sudden need for kibble instead of hamburgers.

"How is it that this woman ever gets anything done?"

"Remember how I said it isn't about power? Well, sometimes it is. She's got plenty of power, just no brains. She's accomplished a lot out of brute force and ignorance, and it's convinced her that she is as good as she tells everyone she is and that everyone else is trying to keep her suppressed out of jealousy or because they're, well..."

"Part of the Evil Patriarchal Conspiracy?"

"That would be me." Mary grinned at Bruce's expression. "I didn't just marry one of the Evil Oppressors; I also gave birth to two more. I've betrayed the Sacred Sisterhood three times over. Oh, did I mention that only women can be Real Witches?"

"No, but it fails to shock me."

"So what did the silly cow do this time, anyway? Rose didn't tell me."

Bruce was suddenly at a loss for words. He hadn't been joking when he'd told Terry he could handle criminals better than he could mothers, and he'd seen how she responded when someone had messed with one of her children. If for some reason she blamed him for this, it would make things hellishly difficult for Terry in the future. He didn't want Terry to have to choose between his family and his job, and if it came down to it he would fire the boy again. No matter how much it would hurt him to let Terry go.

_Of course, that's assuming he lets you get away with it again. He can be annoyingly perceptive when you don't want him to be._

"Mr. Wayne?"

_No more stalling, old man._

"I... think I'd better show you."

He led her over to where Terry now sat catloaf on a table, purring loudly while Rose groomed his fur with one of those silly-looking gloves covered with nobs that caught the loose cat-hair. Mary followed, frowning slightly. The frown deepened as she looked at the cat.

Light dawned.

Early in their relationship, after a training session that had gone poorly and painfully, Bruce had asked Terry if he let his mother hear him talking like that. Terry had grinned and replied that he'd learned it from her. Bruce had thought he was being a smart-ass as usual, but since Terry's language wasn't vulgar, just colorful, he'd let it slide. Now, listening to Mary, he realised that Terry had just been telling the truth.

The other members of the group were sidling away, although some of them were choking back laughter. A few of them were even taking notes. Jason had sunk back into a chair with a look of almost reverential amusement on his face. Bruce was starting to feel relieved; she wasn't blaming him. Terry, for his part, was trying to shrink in on himself, his eyes wide and his ears flat against his skull.

"-and every haircut she gets become a mullet! That misanthropic, spiteful, harridan-"

"Uh, Mary, I think we get the point," Rose interrupted. Mary stopped in mid-rant, blinked, and shut her mouth with a snap. "I think we all agree that Rayvyn has acted with her usual fine judgement and respect for magical etiquette. And, as usual, we have to fix it. I think I may be able to break the lock on this spell if we just throw enough power at it, which is why I called you. Now, in order to pool our power, our focus needs to _be_ focussed. Any lapse of concentration could have very unfortunate effects. Do you think you can channel that temper of yours into something useful, or do I need to ask Mr. Wayne to take your place?"

Bruce whipped his head around to stare at Rose, as did Jason, Terry, and Mary.

"What?" she asked irritably. "All the focus of this type of spell needs is to be able to concentrate no matter what happens. Usually, that's Mary's strong point. But the focus must be able to stand at the center of all our meshed powers, anchor them, _and keep his or her mind free of all distractions so as not to warp the intentions of the spell._ You _must_ keep your mind absolutely blank of _everything_ except the purpose of the spell. There are only three people in this room who can achieve that kind of concentration, and I'm needed to help power the spell as well as direct it. So what will it be?"

Mary blinked again, frowning. After a few seconds, she said quietly, "I can do it."

"Be sure about this. You know the consequences."

"I'm sure."

"Then let's get to work."

The group worked with a casual efficiency that Bruce didn't usually associate with magic-users. There were no robes, no mysterious vessels belching purple smoke, and only one oddly glowing piece of crystal- and even that stopped when Rose picked up and knocked it against the table a few times, as if it were a salt shaker that wouldn't shake. They cracked jokes back and forth while getting the furniture out of the way and rolling up the rug. It was both unnerving and reassuring. But eventually they gathered into a circle.

"I call the Unique and Supreme Lodge of the Elucidated Brethren to order. Is the Door of Knowledge sealed fast against heretics and knowlessmen?"

_I knew it was too good to last._

"Is the triple circle well and truly traced? Art all here who Art Here? And it be well for an knowlessman that he should not be here, for he would be taken from this place and his gaskin slit, his moules shown to the four winds, his welchet torn asunder with many hooks and his figgin placed upon a spike-"

_Wait a minute..._

Rose had been solemnly intoning the standard tripe that Bruce was used to hearing when magic-users got going, but instead of slavishly following her every word, the group was... snickering. Jason was sighing and shaking his head, but he was also grinning.

"Rose, quit trying to mess with Bruce's head."

"Oh, all right. But his expression was priceless. You've been hanging around the wrong type of magicians, Mr. Wayne- that pretentious crap is the mystical equivalent of those guys who buy huge four-wheel drive cars and never leave the city. Sheer over-compensation, that's all it is. Okay, there's a few Powers left who insist on it, but most of them prefer plain speech. Well, onto the serious part of the evening. Anything left to be done?"

"I haven't chastised the Thuribles of Destiny," Jason deadpanned. Rose smacked his arm.

"Now who's being a goofball? Right, we seem to be ready."

Bruce could feel the atmosphere in the room change. There was no more fooling around, although some of them were still grinning. Mary and a man whose name Bruce hadn't caught went over to the hutch, pulling out a pewter chalice and a stone disc. Rose took an elegant swept-hilt rapier from its display stand. One of the girls who had been cooing over Terry earlier caught up her walking stick- a five-and-a-half-foot length of ash topped with a cluster of pale amethyst crystals. Mary handed the chalice to a small, slim black man named Toby, then walked into the middle of the circle.

"Okay," Rose said, "Mr. Wayne, if you'd like to take a seat over there, out of range? Thanks. Now, Terry, could you join your mother? Perfect. Now let's get this done."

The ritual wasn't very elaborate, just as Rose had said. She called on the Elements with a minimum of fuss, invoked the necessary Power politely but plainly, set down the problem, then proposed a solution. The Power- who had arrived as casually as the rest of the group- listened and suggested a different solution. Rose shook her head, and a long discussion began. Eventually a workable compromise was reached. Even Bruce could feel the power that gathered when they started implementing that compromise. It wasn't anything that could be seen; but it was unmistakably rising from the circle and homing in on Mary, who stood calmly over Terry, eyes closed.

The door crashed open. A tall blonde woman dressed all in white posed there dramatically.

"How dare you!"

_This has **got** to be Rayvyn._

Mary didn't even flinch, but others in the group were distracted by the interruption. The energy shifted, becoming slightly disorganised. Bruce tensed, knowing from painful personal experience what could happen when a spell was disrupted.

"Rayvyn, piss off," Rose growled, trying to redirect the energy. Rayvyn drew herself up haughtily.

"So once again you choose to interfere in matters beyond your ken, Rose. This creature is mine to deal with by right of cosmic balance. It was I whom he so foully wronged, and it is by my hand that Justice was served. And now you take it upon yourself to absolve him of his crimes without due penance? This shall not be. This must not be! Mighty Hecate, I abjure thee-"

And even more energy flooded in. Wind whipped through the room, its roar almost drowning out the shouts and shrieks as one by one the group lost their hold on their spell, until only Jason, Rose, and Mary were left standing against the sheer force of Rayvyn's magic. Bruce could see the the panicked looks Rose and Jason were exchanging; he knew they weren't going to be able to hold out much longer. And when that happened...

He was standing before he even realised it. Ignoring Rayvyn's continued ranting, he forced his way toward Mary and Terry. Mary was still holding her concentration, but Terry had flattened himself the floor and was holding on for dear life. A choked cry from his left followed by a loud curse from his right warned him that Jason and Rose were losing it just before they were flung aside. Now almost all of the energy was swirling around Mary, getting ready to strike.

Suddenly Rayvyn was standing there, getting ready for God knew what.

"- and deliver unto me my rightful subject, that Justice might be served!"

And Terry was in her arms. Mary's eyes snapped open, her concentration finally lost. The power gave one last wild pulse and thundered down toward her. Bruce, having expected this, was ready, shoving her out of harm's way and taking the blast himself.

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Jason picked himself up gingerly, not trusting that things wouldn't fall off; things like his head. The room looked like the aftermath of some of the parties he'd attended back in the Sixties, with vaguely conscious people with questionable grasps on reality strewn about the floor. He looked to the center of the room, dreading what he would see.

_Morgana's Tits. I do not believe this._

He ignored the groaning mob, picking his way toward his old friend. In the back of his mind, Etrigan was laughing uproariously.

"Bruce? Bruce, you need to wake up. We've just succeeded in making matters worse."

Bruce's eyelids fluttered open, pale eyes stabbing into his in a familiar glare.

"Of course we did," he growled, then blinked, rubbing his throat.

"Does anything hurt?" Rose had crept up behind him, wincing and holding a tissue to her bleeding nose. Bruce thought for a second, then shook his head.

"No. Should I be worried about that?"

"Uhhhhhh...."

"Well....." Jason exchanged another look with Rose. Bruce scowled, then carefully got to his feet. Jason steadied him as he staggered.

"My center of balance is off." Bruce was looking more and more unhappy as he frowned up at Jason. "So's my voice. What just happened?"

"The spell got disrupted," Rose said.

"Really."

"Yep."

"Care to be more specific?"

"I think you might want to see this for yourself."

Jason only gave one longing glance at the door before helping the still-dizzy Bruce over to the remains of a full-length mirror. The reaction was everything he could have hoped for: a strangled noise; touching the mirror to see if it were real; looking down at his hands as though they belonged to someone else. Which, in a matter of speaking, they did. They, along with everything else he saw of himself in the mirror, were Terry's.

"Congratulations," Rose said drily, "it's a boy."

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Off to a good start, I think....


	2. Chapter 2

Just a few quick responses before the fur starts flying (sorry)-

myrddinowl- I certainly hope so.

The Valkyrie- Somehow I don't think that's going to be a problem. Granted, Bruce may enjoy being young and healthy again, but I'd imagine he'd prefer to be young and healthy in his own body. As for Terry, well, I _really _don't think that'll be an issue.

Weather Marmalade- I wondered if anyone would get that reference...

manzanita- Sorry, it's not from "Princess Bride". You were right about "Guards! Guards!" and where I found the term "Whoopie Witch", though. And I didn't know I'd blocked the anonymous reviews; thanks for telling me. I think I've fixed it now, but the editing system and I are having a bit of an ongoing feud, so I can't be sure.

outofivanhoe- You got it. The title is from that quote by Twain.

XinnLajgin- Actually, it's a plot bunny from a story I'm working on for my Sisterhood-verse. And this is why all my friends beg me to never take drugs- because this is what I'm like normally.

Night-Owl123- Heh. That would be telling...

MollyTheWanderer- Gotta have the Batsuit action. And Jason is going to have entirely too much fun with this.

pyramidgirl89- Oh, Dana is definitely going to have a part in this.

Miss L. Anyus- Except for the eyes, I used my cat's description. He really is a beautiful animal, even if he is dumb as a box of rocks. (Likes to crawl in the shower just after you've gotten out of it)

Me-obviously- Heh heh heh…

And for the record, I've never been sure if the BB comics were supposed to be in continuity or not, but for the purposes of this story, they aren't. "Epilogue" could be, but since it's completely irrelevant to this story, I'm not going to drag it in.

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As a general rule, Terry didn't mind having a buxom blonde holding him against her chest. Under the circumstances, however, all he wanted to do was get the hell out of Dodge. He was still a little disoriented from the magic that had been ricocheting around the room, but with every second his head was that much clearer. All he needed to do now was wait for a good opportunity.

_I think I need to introduce her to a few of the skills I just acquired- like that Kitty Cuisinart move I got Bruce with earlier. ...I'm gonna be apologizing for that for months, I bet. Completely forgot I had claws. -Focus, McGinnis. She may be a complete nutbar, but she's a freakin' powerful nutbar; might only be one chance. And missing it would really suck._

It was taking a lot of effort to remain limp in Rayvyn's arms. Every instinct he had, not to mention the new ones that came with the new body, was screaming at him to fight and/or run. Still, he knew that his escape hinged on her thinking he was still out of it until the last second. In the meantime, he had the indescribable pleasure of listening to Rayvyn's ranting.

"The nerve of her, interfering with my workings again! I know that the Goddess allows us Free Will, but Some People just take it too far! Going against the Sacred Judgement of one of the Goddess' Chosen! And actually working with the Oppressors of Wymmyn! Traitorous bitch! There will be a reckoning one day, mark my words..."

_Wow. I didn't know it was possible to pronounce capital letters. Or to go this long with once saying anything original. Well, no, that's not true- Principal Nakamura used to do it all the time. But he's a weasely little bureaucrat, so that was normal. -Oh, no. We are not heading where I think we're heading. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!_

A glowing sign up ahead announced the location of the Gotham Animal Clinic, and somehow he didn't think she was bringing him there for a distemper shot.

_I don't think so, you deranged heifer._

The move he made would have dislocated several joints if he'd still been human. Rayvyn, startled by his abrupt "waking up", dropped him with a squawk. Terry was a bit surprised that it was that easy, but didn't stop to think about it. Instead, he dashed into the nearest alley, under a chain link fence, and into the open window of an abandoned building. He hesitated for a second when he got inside, but decided he'd better keep moving. The stairs weren't in good shape, but not so rickety that a cat's weight would cause them to collapse. And from the upper story windows he might catch a glimpse of Rayvyn; hopefully she'd give up on tracking him down before too long.

_Right. Upstairs it is. Besides, even if she does come in here to look, those stairs'll keep her from getting too far. Okay, there's a window, let's see... Wow. She isn't even close. Guess her tracking magic isn't working. Such a pity. Aw, leaving so soon? Don't forget to write... Bet she writes on lavender paper and dots her i's with little pentagrams. Focus, McGinnis. You can snark at her later. Okay, now, what would Bruce do in- oh, who am I kidding? He'd never get in a situation like this! Too damn dignified, and the worst part is he doesn't even try to be. Okay, so Bruce can't help you here. What would Terry McGinnis do?_

_Well, apparently he'd sit around like a furry little ball of stupidity and refer to himself in the third person instead of actually coming up with a plan._

It was at this point that he realized that his cat instincts had taken over again while he was preoccupied; like any cat who'd had a scare, he'd been grooming.

_It occurs to me that at some point I am going to have to put this tongue back in my mouth._

_I hate my life._

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"Jason."

"Yes, Bruce?"

"_This_ is why I hate magic."

"Under the circumstances, I won't take offence at that," Rose sighed. "Still, before we see what can be salvaged from this cock-up, let's take care of our people, shall we? Those who are still functional but a bit groggy, find a couch to put them on while they regain their energy. Anybody who's out cold- bedrooms are on the second floor. Treat it like shock: elevate the feet, keep them warm, and I'm going to make some of Mama Uusitalo's Patented Hangover Cure. Substitute brown sugar and maple syrup for the Worcestershire sauce and it's just the thing for magical hyperextension trauma. When that's done, Mr. Wayne, we're going to have to give you a rather thorough examination. A magical one."

"Wonderful."

"Live with it."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No. Well, technically, yes, but you don't strike me as that type."

Bruce glared at her, knowing it wasn't quite as effective coming from a teenager. The glare intensified when she didn't even seem to notice, disappearing through a door. Jason didn't even try to hide his smirk. Bruce thought about saying something, but instead turned to helping the fallen members of The Horde. Most of them were just groggy, but three of them were out cold: Toby, the girl who had cuddled Terry earlier, and a distinguished grey-haired gentleman who seemed vaguely familiar. Toby, like Rose, had a nosebleed, which Bruce saw to. He also carried the younger man upstairs to the nearest bed, steadfastly refusing to admit how much he enjoyed the relative ease of the task in his accidentally acquired new body. He carried the girl up as well, leaving the heavier man to Jason, who gave him a dirty look on returning.

"You're not old at the moment, Bruce, you can do some heavy lifting."

"Slipped my mind."

"Right."

"Benjamin Hill's not exactly a lightweight, you know."

"Sorry," Bruce said insincerely, then, "Benjamin Hill? I thought he looked familiar. Hamilton Hill's youngest, isn't he?"

"Yes- uhoh." Jason made himself scarce as, with a glad cry, Mary shot up off her sofa and hugged Bruce. Bruce, for his part, glared after him and debated telling Rose about a certain incident forty-five years ago.

"Oh, Terry, thank god you're back! When the spell went wrong, I thought I saw- oh, I'm so glad you're alright! There aren't any side-effects, are there?"

"Maybe one or two," Bruce said, trying to free himself without looking like he was doing so. It was the worst thing he could have said; Mary instantly shoved him down on the sofa and started fussing.

"What did that dish-faced anomaly do to you? Your eyes look all right- I did wonder if they stay cat's eyes when you changed back. Are you seeing normally? How's your hearing? If you tell me you're having a craving for fish, I _will _smack you."

"My eyes are fine, so is my hearing, and I've never really been all that fond of fish anyway," Bruce sighed, realizing he had better answer her questions before explaining. Otherwise, he'd never get a chance to do so. "That wasn't what I meant by side-effects, Mary. I'm afraid-"

"Terrence Niall McGinnis, since when do you call your mother by… her… oh, dear." Mary slumped, the fire in her eyes dying down a bit. "You aren't Terry, are you?"

"No."

"You're Mr. Wayne."

"Yes."

"Ah, hell."

"Exactly."

"How-?"

"My guess is the busted spell," Rose broke in, returning with a tray full of glasses and a pitcher. "Here we go, everyone gets a glass. And I do mean _everyone_, Mr. Wayne. You got caught in that mess, too. You aren't feeling it now, but without this, you will soon. Trust me on this."

The drink was odd-tasting, but nowhere near as bad as Bruce had feared. It also cleared his head quite nicely; he had still had a bit of lingering fuzziness, but it was gone. He could see it taking its effect on the others as well. Several of them were looking decidedly less green than they had been, and the line between Jason's eyebrows that always appeared when he'd overdone it had vanished.

Bruce held on to his patience as The Horde got itself back together. He didn't want to, but he knew that the shock of a broken spell wasn't easily shaken off and that rushing matters would only lead to potentially fatal mistakes. Still, with Terry in that idiot's hands, the last thing he wanted to do was wait- which is exactly what he had to do.

"Right," Rose said suddenly. "First order of business- Bethia, can you see where Terry is, or are your brains still too fried. Don't try if they are; you won't do him any good if you overextend."

The girl who had held the staff during the spell cocked her head, her green-gold eyes becoming unfocussed. She looked more as though she were trying to remember a phone number than exercising mystical powers, but Bruce was beginning to suspect that was the norm with this group.

"He got away from the silly bitch, but I'm not sure where he is. An abandoned building somewhere, but that's all I can get right now. I'll try again when the rhinoceri stop trampling my cerebrum."

Everyone looked relieved, but Bruce wasn't willing to settle for that. He was about to push the girl for more details, but a single look at her told him it would be a waste of time. She was still very pale and as sturdily as she was built, at the moment he doubted she could so much as stand without assistance; she had clearly been hit hard.

_Well, what else is going to delay this mess? And what else is going to blow up in our faces before this is over? _

"And now, Mr. Wayne, I tell you something you really don't want to hear," Rose said.

"You'll need time to recover before you can do anything. I was expecting that."

Rose nodded.

"It's a pain in the ass, I know, but-"

Bruce shook his head, cutting her off.

"I know enough about magic to know that trying anything now would be suicidal. I want this over, but I'm not an idiot. But what can you tell me right now?"

Rose gave him a sharp look.

"Not much, and most of it is pure conjecture. You're probably in Terry's body because that's the last thing Mary was thinking about before her concentration was broken. As to side effects, well, you might come out of this a bit younger than you started, or you might even be stuck as a teenager when you become yourself again. You might come out of this with some of Terry's mannerisms, or some of yours could be transferred to him. It all depends on how thorough a transformation this is; namely, are you actually in Terry's body- which I highly doubt, by the way- or is it just a surface transformation. It's not really the same situation as Terry's in, you know. I mean, he could come out of this with a few new quirks, but a cat's body isn't natural to him, so the side effects are lessened. You, though- you've been a teenaged boy. Your own body is used to it, just a little out of practice, as it were. If I can use a really crappy metaphor, Terry's suddenly playing guitar when all he's ever played is drums. You're returning to piano after being stuck with a keyboard for years. The more similarity between the two states, the greater effect it has when you switch."

"Rose?"

"What is it, Jason?"

"Your metaphors still suck."

"Yeah, I know. But I didn't see you jumping in to explain, now, did I? So suck it up and deal. Anyway, I'm afraid we won't be able to do anything on the magical front for at least a day." Rose lifted a hand to prevent Bruce's objection. "I didn't say we wouldn't do anything. Those of us who are still mobile will be out combing the city for Terry, and we'll spread the word amongst those we trust. And from what Mary's said, he knows the streets well enough to keep himself out of trouble. It's not going to be fun for any of us, but I have no doubts that we'll get out of this with our skins intact. Slightly altered, maybe, but intact."

"How can you be sure?" Bruce wondered if perhaps she was psychic as well, or if she was just determined. Her grin answered the question for him, but she gave a verbal answer as well.

"We have in this room a collection of the most pig-headed people in Gotham. We also have people with money and connections, not to mention power- and no, I'm not just talking about you, although your influence certainly won't hurt. Between us, we can have this city covered within the hour if we set to work now. And I suggest we do just that. Anybody who feels okay to go, get to work. Anybody else, call people you can trust to deal with this matter discreetly. I am assuming neither Mr. Wayne nor Mary wants this story spread any farther than necessary, but we will need help. Mr. Wayne, I suspect you and Mary want to discuss certain aspects of this privately; you can use my study." She pointed at a door, and after a silent discussion, Bruce and Mary took her advice.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne," Mary started. "If I'd had any idea-"

"Not your fault," Bruce said. "I was the one who chose to tackle you, and I knew what could happen. You did very well under the circumstances; not many people could have kept their concentration in the middle of all that. But we have to discuss what to do now. We don't want the world to know that I'm not Terry, so until this is over, I'll have to be him."

Mary started to giggle.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, but you and Terry are so… well, I hope you can pull it off." Then she sobered up, frowning. "But what about your own life?"

"That's simple enough; I'll call in tonight and tell them I slipped on some wet leaves and sprained my ankle. At my age- my normal age- I'd be expected to stay off it completely for at least a few days. 'Terry' will just be acting as a courier a bit more than usual. That will also cut into his time with his friends, which under the circumstances is for the best. I already know his class schedule, and none of his courses should be a problem. Is there anything I should know about?"

Mary thought, then shrugged.

"Well, unless you want to claim a headache for the next few days, you might want to remember that Terry smiles more than you do. But, honestly, Mr. Wayne, I do think that you know Terry as well as I do, if not better."

"You're his mother."

"Yes, but Terry spent too much time under his father's thumb for me to be sure about a lot of things. Don't get me wrong, Warren wasn't a bad man, but he had a certain view of the world and he never wanted to look beyond it. He never wanted anybody else to look beyond it, either, which is why we got divorced. You see, Warren believed that magic wasn't real, and that only frauds and the mentally unstable claimed to believe in it. I didn't know this when I married him, or I'd have broken it off then, believe me. I met Warren when I was fairly new to Gotham and hadn't made contact with any of the pagan or magical community yet. It really never came up in conversation, because we had so many other things to talk about. I hooked up with The Horde when Terry was about a year and a half, although it was a slightly different group then. Warren thought they studied comparative mythologies and did some gaming on the side, which isn't entirely inaccurate. When he stopped kidding himself and figured out what they really were, he hit the roof and ordered me to drop them. Told me it was for my own good, and threatened to call the cops on them. It got pretty ugly after that, and, well, you have some idea of the rest. He 'let' me keep Matt because Matt has absolutely no interest in magic- he thinks it's boring. But Terry had been asking questions, so Warren decided to make sure he grew up with a proper scientific mindset. He'd already decided that Terry was going to become a physicist when he grew up, and physicists don't believe in magic."

Bruce snorted.

"Tell Jason that sometime- he has at least one degree in physics. And if he thought Terry would be a physicist, he obviously wasn't paying attention. Chemistry, maybe, but not physics."

"They fought over that, too. I don't want you to think that Warren was this OCD control freak, because he wasn't, but he just wasn't capable of seeing outside of his mindset unless somebody gave him a good swift kick. And Terry doesn't have his mindset, no matter how hard Warren wanted to think otherwise. Warren was a very tame man, and expected everyone else to be the same. Terry- well, 'tame' is the last word I would apply to him."

Bruce couldn't help but grin; tame was not a word that really applied to Terry McGinnis. In fact, he had to admit that part of the reason Terry had attracted his notice was that slightly feral edge. Terry was very feline in nature- domesticated, perhaps, but not tame. And Bruce had always had a weakness for cats.

"I can't argue that," he said, "It's what makes him so good at his job."

Mary gave him a look as dry as Barbara at her best.

"Yes, imagine that. Although it seems right now he's a little more suited to the role of one your… competitors, isn't he?"

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Jason supposed he should feel guilty about eavesdropping, but, as usual, he didn't. He just hoped he wasn't caught; never mind what Bruce what do to him- he was much more worried about Mary and Rose! Especially Rose, since he wasn't sleeping with Bruce or Mary. Still, the expression on Bruce's face at that moment made it worth the risk.

_You, old friend, are busted._

As he watched, he wondered if it would ever occur to Bruce that Jason had known about his new protégé almost from the beginning. He hadn't immediately guessed, despite the timing. After all, with the murder rate in Gotham, there were probably a dozen people with the motive to start the tradition again at that time. But when Mary had showed up at The Horde's semi-weekly gathering bubbling with the news that her son had managed to impress _Bruce Wayne_ enough to be offered a job, he hadn't needed to think too hard about the connection. Before then, Jason had only attended these gatherings haphazardly; afterwards, he slowly started attending more often until he became a regular attendee. It wasn't exactly a hardship, since he'd been inclined to like the group anyway.

He'd been very careful to ask too many questions about Batman, but he knew it would look odd if he never mentioned the subject. It had been a bit of a balancing act, and he'd had to keep an eye on others in The Horde to see if they showed any indications of figuring it out. He suspected Ben Hill had, and Toby as well. Bethia had cornered him one day and told him flat out that she knew, but he knew she wouldn't tell anybody else. Most of the rest of the group wasn't more than usually interested in Batman, and was quite content to leave matters alone. Rose, however- he wasn't quite sure what she knew. Although, if she didn't know already, she would by the time this mess was settled.

He wouldn't bother Bruce with any of this, of course. After all, Ben was a firm supporter of Batman's, as was Toby. Toby was also very fond of Terry, and also felt some lingering guilt for his part in the McGinnis divorce: he had been the one to bring Mary into The Horde. He wouldn't want to cause any more trouble for the family, and Ben wouldn't want to endanger part of his father's legacy. Bethia had been outed as a psychic in her heavily Christian fundamentalist hometown and barely escaped with her life; she would never run the risk of doing that to somebody else. As for Rose, well, she didn't believe in telling people anything she considered to be somebody else's business. She hadn't told anyone about Etrigan, and Jason doubted she would tell about Batman if she knew, either.

Now that he thought about it, he rather hoped Mary wouldn't figure out he'd known all along. Over the centuries, he'd learned that it was a bad idea to piss off a woman, a worse one to piss off a Celt, and nobody in their right mind pissed off a mother. What would happen to someone who pissed off someone who was all three simultaneously was best not considered. Even Etrigan shied from that. Until tonight, he'd never actually seen Mary angry, but others in The Horde had, and had dubbed her Scary Mary for her creative use of invective and methods of payback.

_Hmmm… might be interesting to see what she comes up with for Bruce. Might be even more interesting to see what she does to Rayvyn._

"Damn!"

The mirror in front of him now showed an empty room; Jason had been thinking so deeply he'd not only missed how Bruce squirmed out of his position but also them leaving. He'd wanted to talk to them before they left, and he didn't want to do it where the younger McGinnis boy might overhear.

"Miss something, Jason?" Rose leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow raised.

_Shit._

It was also a bad idea to piss off a woman one occasionally slept with, especially if one had been hoping to get any that night.

**To Be Continued**


	3. Chapter 3

Yeah, I'm back. Lame excuses for my prolonged absence are given in my note for _Beyond Knightfall_. I hope my brain is working properly again, but I make no promises.

Replies to reviews-

**Wild KS Phoenix- **I don't think it will spoil much to say that Bruce is going to take full advantage of being young, strong, and agile again. As for Ace, that poor dog won't know if he's coming or going if any more magic goes wrong.

**Moriko_Nightdream- **I haven't identified that quote because nobody else has.

**Nixariel- **Until now. Yes, the summary quote is based on the line from _**The Last Unicorn.**_

**BlazeStryker- **I like the idea, and your description of Rayvyn is spot on. I already know where this is going, though, and rest assured, when it finally appears it should be satisfying, even if Raven isn't involved.

Bruce wasn't blind-sided very often, but this night had been one hit after another. Perhaps that was why he handled Mary's statement with less than his usual aplomb.

"Huh?" he said intelligently.

"I've known from the start. Terry isn't as sneaky as he thinks he is, at least not where I'm concerned. The night he moved back in with Matt and me, he found a disc hidden in a picture of him and his father after Matt messed around with it. Being Terry, he checked it out, and Matt being Matt, he stuck his nose in and then told me everything. Matt couldn't make sense of what he saw, but Terry grabbed the disc and took off- which admittedly, is the only part I actually saw. At the time, I thought Terry just needed some time alone, but when he didn't come home until almost dawn, well, I snooped. I went into the room and found the batsuit under the bed. I didn't know what it was then, and I had been intending to ask Terry about it, but then you showed up with the lamest excuse I've ever heard."

"Lame?"

"'Hooligans'?"

"Fair enough." Terry had commented on that too, and Bruce had to admit it hadn't been one of his better covers.

"I still didn't know what was going on, but it was clear that it meant a lot to Terry, so I held off for a little while. Then Batman started showing up, and I recognised the costume. I might not know much about your life, Mr. Wayne, but I know how important it is to keep a secret identity. Although I have to admit, I've never understood the logic behind people being in danger if they know. It always seemed to me that the dangers would be in your enemies knowing, and if we don't know there's a threat, we can't be ready for it. Like when Stalker kidnapped Matt- Matt didn't know anything, and still doesn't, but he was taken anyway because of his connection to Terry. And those Jokerz hurt Dana because she's Terry's girlfriend. Max- okay, Max finds her own trouble and always has even before she knew, and, yes, we have talked. Her excuses are better than yours, but she has a tell- she's a lot smoother when she lies than when she's just talking."

"Yes, I've noticed that. And as much as I wish I could argue your logic, I've never been entirely sure about that myself. In my case, the ones who didn't know I couldn't tell for various reasons. In Terry's- well, I didn't know enough about any of you yet. And by the time I did-"

Mary nodded

"Oh, yes, I know how that goes."

Bruce's frown deepened as a memory hit him, followed by another.

"He said you laughed when he told you he was Batman, when that reporter nearly unmasked us."

"Well, yes, I did, but that was because Matt was there. He's really not old enough to handle a secret like that, and I was sure that report was a bunch of hype. I didn't want Terry's cover blown because his little brother talked at the wrong time. Believe me, if Matt hadn't been there, it would have gone differently."

He believed her. But there was still the other matter.

"The slappers."

Mary winced.

"Okay, that was just me grabbing the Idiot Ball. I wish I had a good excuse, but it was really just mom-instincts going haywire combined with an Irish temper. I did apologise, though."

"Good. But back to the matter at hand- I know how I would choose to play this out, but you do have a say in this. My plan is to live as Terry until this is straightened out, but to have him appear to be staying at Wayne Manor until I'm back on my feet. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened, so nobody should comment. That way, I'll have more time to cover for both of us, not to mention looking for him. I don't want to take the chance that something will prevent him from reaching us."

Mary nodded again.

"You'll have to come home to pack some of his things, and to pick up his bike from wherever he left it. I doubt you'll have a hard time fooling Matt, but you never know- kids have an amazing knack of noticing exactly what you don't want them to."

"_Mom, Terry's acting wierder than usual!"_

"Now I know why some animals eat their young," Bruce grumbled. From the moment he set foot in the condo, Matt had been following him around, asking questions with a smirk on his face. Bruce had answered the first few before he realised that Matt wasn't actually looking for answers, just to bug Terry. It was one of the rare occasions he was glad to be an only child.

"Matt, leave him alone. You've heard his stories about how Mr. Wayne gets when he's laid up, and he's going to be stuck with him for a few days."

_Oh, he tells stories, does he?_

Matt grimaced.

"Okay, okay. Geez, when I start working, I'm not gonna work for some crabby old rich guy."

"He's not that bad," Bruce protested, suspecting that he was. Matt's look didn't help.

"I thought you said he was a self-centered jackass who didn't want anyone else to have a life since he'd screwed up his chances at one."

Bruce froze.

"I... When did I say that?"

"When he called you in just as you were going to the semi-formal with Dana."

"Oh. Right." Terry had been furious, especially when it turned out to be a false alarm. Bruce could easily imagine him saying just that, under the circumstances. Barbara had lit into him too, when she found out. Worse, she'd told Clark, who had just sighed and told Barbara to let him know when Senior Prom was, just to be sure, because somebody had to make sure Terry got a taste of normal high school and God knew Bruce wouldn't be the one to do it.

"And then when he fired you, you called him-"

"Yeah, I know." He didn't, but he knew it wouldn't be pretty.

"And just last week, you said-"

"_Matt!_" Suddenly he was finding it very easy to channel Terry. He just hoped it would continue to be that easy.

Terry, meanwhile, was curled up in a ball, asleep.

Barbara paced in the hall, worried and angry. A major bust had gone down, the Jokerz and the Ts had held a small rumble in the park, and Mad Stan had blown up a fire hydrant. She wasn't sure she wanted an explanation for that last, but the important factor in all three events was that Batman had been nowhere to be found. She had come to the manor as soon as she could, only to find it deserted except for a woebegone Ace.

_Good explanation or not, I think I'll let them know just how bad an idea leaving me out of the loop is._

She heard the kid's bike come up the drive; she followed the dog to meet him at the front door, best glare locked and loaded. It faltered a bit when Terry walked in looking every bit as grim as Bruce at his broody best.

"What happened, kid?"

Terry stopped, stared for a moment, then groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in such a Bruce-like manner that she had to bite her lip to keep from grinning. Whatever it was, it couldn't be too bad.

"I was really hoping you wouldn't find out about this," he growled.

"Yeah, well, sucks to be you."

"You have no idea." It was surprising how well the Bat-glare set on Terry's face, but it only made her grin break out.

Ace approached slowly, sniffed, cocked his head, sniffed again, and slumped to the floor.

"Yes, boy, it's me. Don't get used to it; it is NOT permanent."

_Wait a minute..._

"Bruce?"

"Long story."

"Take the time."

"Let's just say my opinion of magic is not likely to change in the near future and leave it at that."

_Oh. My. God._

Barbara fought it as long as she could, but eventually she couldn't help it; she laughed.

"Bruce, how the hell do you get yourself into these things?"

"In this case, it was Terry, a patch of wet leaves, and a delusional Whoopie Witch."

"So what does the kid look like, or do I even want to know."

"Furry."

"Turned him into a dog?"

"No, a cat."

Barbara laughed even harder.

"It's not funny."

"The hell it isn't! So where is he?"

"I don't know."

She stopped laughing.

"He didn't run off, did he? How far did the transformation go?"

"No, she took him while we were- well, since you know this much, I suppose I should tell you the rest. Come into the library, you'll probably want to be sitting for parts of it."

She did. When Bruce finished, it was her turn to pinch the bridge of her nose and groan.

"So let me get this straight- we've got you turned into Terry, and every minute you're him makes you that much younger when you're back to being you, and Terry is a cat, and the longer he's like that, the more likely it is that he'll have permanent effects from it too."

"More or less."

"Well, at least you're with The Horde. They've got a reputation for being less prone to bullshit than most mystical types."

Bruce smirked.

"Pity they're in the minority. But they have Jason's approval, which is saying a lot."

"There is one thing that worries me, though."

"Only one?"

"Bruce, can you honestly think of a better example of the Evil Patriarchal Male than yourself? I mean, to someone like this Rayvyn idiot's way of thinking," Barbara hurriedly added. Bruce raised an eyebrow at her.

"Ra's al Ghul. Current appearance notwithstanding, of course."

"Okay, but somebody who's actually in Gotham? You're rich, powerful, single, old- well, maybe not at the moment- and in your own body you're still a big man. To someone like that, you might as well carry a sign that says, 'I was born to subjugate women.' Doesn't matter that the thought never crossed your mind; she won't see you, just what you look like to her."

"Just as well she won't be seeing me, then. Terry isn't built to intimidate, although that could change as he gets older."

Barbara snorted.

"If you're expecting him to end up built like you were-"

"Don't be ridiculous, we're two entirely different body types. But he could still grow a bit; he's only eighteen so it's not impossible. At any rate, that isn't the issue here. I'm not particularly worried about that idiot coming after me because I'm Bruce Wayne, but it's entirely possible that she could see me and think that Terry somehow managed to break her spell. That could be useful, but it could also be very dangerous; I'm not sure what would happen if she tried layering a spell on top of the one that did this. I'll admit that being young again has its advantages, but I'd prefer not to be eighteen for the rest of my life, and I certainly don't want to be eighteen in someone else's body! And that's the best-case scenario."

"Do I want to know what your worst-case scenario is? Never mind, stupid question."

Bruce ignored that.

"I'm planning on heading out in a few hours. I don't doubt that Terry will make his way back here as soon as possible, but if we can find him, it will save us a lot of time. There are a few out looking already, and there will be more tomorrow after they recover. Terry's resourceful, but I still want him found quickly."

"Give me a description and-"

"Only if it's Barbara looking, not Commissioner Gordon."

"Of course. What would I tell them, that they're looking for a teenager who's been turned into a cat? Not a splicer, but an actually, tweety-chasing puddy tat?"

Bruce glared at her again, and once again Barbara was surprised at how natural it seemed, almost as though Terry really was a younger, slimmer Bruce. If she didn't know better, she would wonder just how long Bruce had known Mary McGinnis. She made a mental note to look up Terry's grandparents to see if there was a connection; even taking into account that this was Bruce behind Terry's face, the resemblence had always been there. She had noticed it before. Still, it wasn't important at the moment.

"This storm is working in our favor," Bruce said. "Fewer people on the street. On the other hand, Terry is a mostly-black cat at the moment, which means he'll be practically invisible even when he doesn't feel like it. He'll probably be hiding, and he has to sleep sometime. Especially if his body's instincts overrule his own inclinations. He won't be easy to find unless he wants someone to see him."

"Do you have a picture of him, so I don't waste my time on the wrong cat?"

"Of course."

"Sorry, that was a silly question."

Bruce went to his computer and called up the pictures he'd taken while Terry hadn't been looking, as well as the one when Terry had finally noticed; the expression on that one got a snicker from Barbara. He printed out several copies of the pictures that best displayed Terry's current appearance: one catloaf, one statue pose, and one of Terry reaching up to type something on a keyboard. Barbara looked at that one for a minute, knowing perfectly well that as soon as she had some spare time, she was sending Jason some new lolcats.

"Don't even think of adding captions to these."

"I won't." _The copies I scan, on the other hand..._

The look Bruce shot her told her he wasn't fooled, but he didn't say anything further about her impending childishness. Unless things went horribly wrong- which was always a possibility in Gotham—she could afford to have a bit of fun at Terry's expense.

"And don't send copies to Tim; Terry specifically asked about that."

"I can understand that, but if he finds out anyway, I make no promises."

"Fair enough. Wait—is that a car?" Bruce looked toward the driveway, one eyebrow raised. It was far too late in the evening for Tim to be visiting, and Barbara couldn't imagine who else would be—

_Oh. Fuck. Please, God, do NOT let it be HIM. Not now!_

"Barbara, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

It was surprising how intimidating Bruce could be even in a smaller body.

"I'm really, really hoping there isn't," she answered honestly, then cringed as the front door opened and steps came down the hall. It wasn't Tim, not as light as those steps were. Clark didn't bother with a car these days. She was already here. Terry wasn't going to be driving for a while. That left one possibility, and his timing could only have been worse if he'd shown up the night the Joker attacked.

"Okay, McGinnis, you were right, at this point I am just being a jerk. Not that I'm ever admitting that to His Grumpiness, of course. Oh, hey, Babs, great timing—you'll get to watch the fireworks."

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," she muttered, echoing Bruce's earlier statement.

"Hey, Grayson," Bruce said, nearly giving Barbara a heart attack. "Finally decided to drop by, did you? Your own timing's pretty schway."

_Bruce, I am going to kill you for this._

"So, the Old Man down communing with the bats? He's gotta know by now that I'm here, so if you want to make your escape so he doesn't find out you've been sneaking around, messing in his personal life behind his back."

"What makes you think he doesn't already know?" Bruce was grinning; Barbara could feel herself turning pale.

"You're still alive, aren't you?"

_Not for much longer…_

"How much you wanna bet he found out and is just giving us enough rope?"

_Bruce, you __**bastard**__..._

"Nah, he's only that subtle with the bad guys. Look, kid, I'll admit you seem to have gotten to know him pretty well already, but this is something that takes long personal experience to figure out. You just haven't known him long enough to have watched the pattern repeat itself over and over." Dick's old cocky grin hadn't changed, even if Dick himself was a bit heavier and considerably greyer. "So here's the deal—Bruce is a ham-handed idiot when it comes to interpersonal relationships beyond the most casual social setting. He looks at everything like a case and doesn't understand why people get pissed at him for trying to solve things that aren't supposed to be. He honestly doesn't get that some things don't need to be investigated. Makes him a great businessman, an amazing detective, and an honest-to-god, tear-out-your-hair infuriating friend."

_Oh, for an emergency call right now…_

"Oh, is that what happened?"

_Cheap shot, Bruce._

Dick ran his hand over his receding hairline, but didn't seem offended.

"Hey, it happens to the best of us. But seriously, kid, he'll have investigated every single aspect of your life by now and probably come up with a dozen ways to take you down if he has to. It's not that he doesn't trust you, it's just how he is. You can avoid a lot of our old mistakes just knowing that and knowing when to call him on it and when to shrug it off. Piece of advice—let him investigate your dates. I learned that the hard way."

Barbara smirked despite her overwhelming urge to hyperventilate.

"Yes, I know," Bruce said, suddenly dropping the masquerade.

"You what?" Dick was thrown by the sudden shift, and Barbara decided that she was just going to stay out of this.

"Maybe next time you'll listen if I tell you a woman is a man-eater. It just might be literal. AGAIN."

"_Bruce?_" Dick squeaked, a horrified expression galloping across his face. Barbara could see him mentally reviewing everything he had said since walking through the door.

"As you may have noticed, there have been a few changes around here," Bruce said. "While we do need to talk, my first priority is making sure that these changes do NOT stick. If you want to help, I'll be in the cave. You and Barbara can join me if she ever decides to start breathing again."

Bruce slipped through the clock and was gone. Barbara suddenly realized that she had actually been holding her breath and let it out in a huge gasp. Dick gave her a look very similar to the one Ace had given Bruce earlier.

"Wha—how—but—_Seriously, Babs, what the fuck?_"

Barbara dope-slapped him.

"Sit down, Dick. You'll need it when I tell you about tonight and your body won't have too far to fall after I kill you for putting me on the spot like this!"

Of course it's getting more confused! What, you didn't think I was going to make this easy on them, did you?


End file.
